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Nov 15, 2011

They are nameless and know no caste but
fate writes Abdul Wajid Parray.

It was the heyday of Eid and
I got the opportunity to visit my aunt,
Khalaji, whom I am very fond for her maestro in cooking and poetic Kashmiri
credos full of wisdom. Enjoying the mouth-watering food was pleasantly going
fine alas an awful conversation changed the atmosphere at once. I don’t know
exactly what ignited the discussion that turned my aunt Nostalgic who revealed
a dreadful story that sent shivers down my spine.

It was the bloody year 1985,
the time when tribulations in Kashmir at the hands of Indian forces were at
peak. Massacres, rapes and Human right violations followed by freedom slogans,
processions and rallies; these were the only buzzwords. On one fateful day my
aunt, Khalaji, visited her
sister-in-law, Baji, living in the
most notorious area of Srinagar, Maisuma.
At the same time, 20 years old Dilshada,
who was on a visit to her aunt in the neighborhood of Baji, also arrived at Baji’s house
to gab with Baji’s daughter who
happened to be a good friend of her. As
Khalaji entered the house, she found a delighted atmosphere therein with
all the women busy in their untimely chit-chats. The arrival of Khalaji added a tang of delight to the
squad since everyone was fond of her jolly nature. Sounds of chuckling by the
young lads, shouting of kids from the street plus the chirping of birds; this
entire filled the atmosphere with a feel of a lovely family full of drama,
hospitality, arguments et al. But then all of a sudden BANG!!! An earth
shacking gunshot thunder stuck them all. Some CRPF men outside were fuming over
some issue turning the delightful air repulsive and dreadful as if
strangulating all the souls there.

Khalaji was
terrorized and a trembling shock jolted her down. The horrific span made her to
scramble away and yelling “Mei hai aayi
gooel” (I am shot). The yowling dumbfounded everyone and they started
chasing her as she kept running away in fear. Period!! Everything halted in a
short as if someone had strangulated the time clock to keep mum. Blood started
spattering all over the room like a hasty splash of a rainstorm. Gaped at the
horrifying moment, everyone with their mouth wide open in shock looked into one
another’s face so as to find answers to their bewilderments.

Scene changed yet again. Now
no one was looking for Khalaji as she was
still breathing but stuck at something more horrible. The irony was that
someone else was lying on the floor in a pool of blood with her blond hair
spattered all around wetted in red. Truth was that it was not Khalaji who was shot but the bullet had
someone else’s name written on it. It was the ill-fated damsel, Dilshada, whose guilt was nothing but to
cheer with her neighbors.The same lad
who only a few moments ago was jesting and kicking like a doll was now lying on
the floor; cold blooded.

Everyone with their heavy
hearts and wet eyes was dazzled at the moment failing to understand anything.
After a long pause the whole doomed story got revealed. It was a 303 shot by
CRPF and there was no chance to escape death. The bullet had passed Khalaji’s face by some infinitesimal
distance scratching her neck badly and pierced her earring only thusgiving her a close shave and sparing
her life. But the hapless Dilshada
was not that fortunate. She could not evade her doom as the bullet pierced into
her skull and blood started boozing out like a bloody fountain with her brain
scattered all around the petite room.

With all that being
reckoned, Khalaji broke down and thus the flash back ended. Following this I
felt uneasy and couldn’t swallow a bit of food anymore. To end-up my frustration I winded-up this
article to give words to the dead damsel who once existed like us. No doubt my
writing for her is worth nothing but what she taught me is striking; the fate. The
upshot is that bullets don’t have a tag to usher them along the correct track.
They are nameless and know no caste but fate. And it was the fate of Khalaji that she survived else there
would have been no one to narrate us this fretful piece. That’s fate!!